


The Best Kind of Change

by Kanaynays



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Developing Relationships, Family, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, there are OCs too but they're not major characters really, this ignores small bits of canon fyi (mostly relationships), yet another 'how the family became a family' fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:19:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5704063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanaynays/pseuds/Kanaynays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People often asked the brothers if it was hard, doing something new every day, making every minute count. The thing was, there had always been change, right from the very beginning. It was hard to say when exactly the things which were different started being the things that were normal.</p>
<p>Phineas and Ferb hadn't always been Phineas and Ferb, and the Flynn-Fletchers had, until a point, been the Flynns, and the Fletchers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brave New World

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I got into Phineas and Ferb pretty much immediately after it was cancelled?? Rude.   
> Anyway, I got round to writing yet another fic to add to the already extensive archive of headcanons relating to how the boys met and how their families became one bigger family. There will be appearances from some original characters, but they don't serve much of a purpose other than to further both the story and the characters' development. Enjoy!

Ferb had never really wondered what it would be like to have a mother.

The woman who had given birth to him, a striking lady by the name of Rosaline, had not been ready for a child. She had suffered greatly during her pregnancy, sacrificing her emotional well-being for what she had grown up being told was the greatest moment in any woman's life, believing that the moment she held that tiny bundle of joy in her arms she would feel herself fulfilled.

The moment never came. Instead what she got was a squirming, red and blotchy mess that did nothing but scream at her from the first second of its existence, and the cold weight that came with the regret of lost life.

Lawrence, her partner, had understood when she'd asked him to take care of their newborn son. Parental rights were passed fully to him, and the couple parted on affectionate, if strained terms.

Ferb still saw her sometimes. The visits were few and far between, and less frequent as he got older, but he saw her enough to remember her. Her hair was a little darker than his was, and a little shaggier too, but he was still recognizably hers. He called her Auntie Rosie, because she had never wanted him to call her mother, and it didn't hurt her so much anymore. She gave him a wrench for his third birthday- a proper wrench, not one of those silly plastic ones his dad had given him- because he had been showing an interest in construction. He used it to disassemble the barbecue.

The wrench had quickly become a steadfast companion. Wherever Ferb went, it was rare to see him without the wrench clutched in his tiny hand. His father seemed shocked with the rate at which Ferb was learning to use it, but it meant for a sore separation when he was told he wouldn't be able to carry it with him during the plane trip to America.

"The New World!" his father had exclaimed on the morning of their departure. "Well, technically _not_ all that new I suppose, but what are you supposed to say to a man like Columbus, hm? Oh, won't it be _exciting_ , Ferb?! A new home! So many new places to explore! New food, new people- new things to disassemble," he added with a wink.

Ferb stayed silent, but he quirked his lips at his father's remark. Lawrence laughed, fully understanding Ferb's meaning, and went on busying himself about the house. His parents watched him from their position on the old sofa in the corner, sipping tea and chortling at their son's enthusiasm.

"That's the spirit, my boy!" Grandpa Fletcher called as Lawrence sped upstairs to fetch another suitcase for Ferb's toys. "You go over there and show them what _real_ antiquing is! Show those good-for-nothing Yanks what's what!"

"Ooh hush, you old fool," Grandma Fletcher admonished, elbowing her husband in the side. "You'll not encourage that sort of talk in front of Ferb."

Reginald shot her an amused look, rubbing his arm. "Oh come now, what's the harm- Ferb knows what I'm on about, don't ye lad?"

Ferb shot him a thumbs-up, then gave his grandma a wink when he knew the man wasn't looking. Covering her mouth to hide her smile, she elbowed him again before leaving the room to fetch more biscuits and tea.

It was at that moment that a knock sounded at the front door.

"Ferb, you wouldn't mind getting that, would you lad?" his grandpa asked, but Ferb was already on his feet and jogging to the door. They both knew who it was anyway.

Sure enough, he was treated to a split-second view of Auntie Rosie grinning down at him before he found himself being picked up and twirled around the living room. Smiling in delight, Ferb wobbled a little when he was set down and grumbled good-naturedly when his scruffy hair was ruffled by a perfectly manicured hand.

"And how's my favourite little man doing this morning, hm?" she crooned, kneeeling down to give him a proper hug and a vain attempt at taming his hair. With a small _tsk_ noise, she wiped her thumb on her tongue and scrubbed at a spot of dirt on Ferb's jaw. "Looking forward to moving?"

Ferb nodded.

"Aye," his grandpa called, "the boy's been helping his father pack all morning. Took a break to join us for some snacks and tea- care to join us, love?"

Lawrence's parents had taken poorly to their break-up and what it meant for their newborn grandchild. It had taken a while before they were willing to acknowledge that what Rosaline had done had been for the best, and even longer before they started treating her like a member of the family again. Rosie was glad for the change- her own parents hadn't been nearly so forgiving, but Lawrence had helped her through those first few months of separation and she was finally feeling like her old self again. Seeing Ferb grow up happy and healthy had done a lot to help on that front.

And as often as the majority of the daycare rabble and the odd adult here and there tried to tell him he wasn't, Ferb _was_ happy. Genuinely happy, with everything he could think of ever wanting. Scared, too- of moving to this grand new place, but that wasn't so bad. His father would be there, and that would be enough. Taking Auntie Rosie by the hand, he led her to the old sofa in the corner and gestured for her to take a seat.

She giggled, giving him a small curtsey before complying. "Only four and already the perfect gentleman, this one," she remarked, folding her hands in her lap. "You'll do a good job with those Yanks in the so-called 'New World'."

"Ha!" Grandpa Fletcher barked just as his wife poked her head through the door to insist that _please_ could everyone _watch their language around the child!_

Rosie snickered, turning a little to reach into the small handbag she'd brought with her. "Look Ferbie, I got you something."

Curious, the boy stood in front of her and tried to appear as patient as he could, but the twitching of his fingers gave him away. Auntie Rosie noticed and gave him a lopsided smile as she pulled out a small flag and pushed it into his hands.

"Ta-daah!" she exclaimed with enthusiasm. "It's a Union Jack," she added- unnecessarily, as there wasn't a single person in that household who didn't know what the Union Jack was. Ferb accepted it regardless, holding it close as he looked to her for an explanation. She held her smile as she pulled another from the bag and gave it a little wave. "I figured they wouldn't want to let you hold your wrench on the trip- so then I figured I'd get you something to hold instead. So I got you one and I got me one too- I'll be holding onto mine the whole time you're on the plane, alright? So if you start to get a bit nervous- which I know you will, don't give me that look young man- you know I'm with you even when I'm not with you. How's that sound?"

Ferb raised his eyebrows, but with the mixed feelings of warmth and regret currently coursing through his body it was mostly for show. In that moment, he felt more scared and more loved than he'd ever felt in his life. Tightening his grip on the flag, he hugged her in that careful, deliberate manner he was so well known for.

"I'll miss you, Auntie Rosie," he said into her shoulder, his voice muffled by the contact.

She hugged him back- a little firmer, with a little more abandon. "I'll miss you too, love. You call me the minute you touch down, agreed?"

He nodded, already making plans.

They had separated by the time his grandmother returned with the tea, and when his dad finally came back downstairs he was fully packed and ready to go with his new flag tucked away in the small bag Lawrence would be taking onto the plane.

It remained there until, four hours later, they were seated and ready for take-off.

Ferb was lucky enough to have been given a window seat. He could see far less through it than he'd have liked, but his dad had promised him that he'd be able to see more when they were in the air. He fidgeted with his flag, which had been snatched from Lawrence's bag the moment they were seated, and chewed on his bottom lip. Auntie Rosie had sent his dad a picture of her still standing in the airport, holding the flag and waving together with his grandparents before he'd had to turn his phone off.

Releasing a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, Ferb clutched the flag in his left hand and took his dad's hand with his right. He was rewarded with a little squeeze and a reassuring smile, but nothing more- exactly as he wanted it.

He closed his eyes when the plane took off, feeling the strangest mixture of excitement and sheer terror when the tires lost contact with the ground. By the time he opened them again they were in the air proper, his view of the city obscured by clouds and fog. Up there, with metal sheets, wires and layers of intricate technology between him and the place he used to call home, Ferb felt strange. Distant, even. It was good.

He was looking forward to landing.


	2. Moving On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phineas' turn! And the start of something great.

The first time Phineas asked his sister what having a dad had been like, she had scowled at him and told him not to ask her that.

A few months later, after a man named Paul had called in a nervous voice to tell her he wouldn't be able to make it to her birthday party, Phineas has asked his sister what she thought having a dad _would_ be like. When she yelled at him, angrily wiping away the tears streaking down her face, he pointed out that it was a different question than the one he'd asked before. Wailing, Candace had screamed that maybe she'd know the answer if her dumb little brother hadn't been born and scared her dad away. She'd been sent to her room, and when Phineas snuck away from the loungeroom and his mother's tired, yet watchful gaze to visit her, he'd found her crying harder than ever before, clutching furiously at her well-loved Ducky Momo plushie. He'd been pulled into her lap while she apologised over and over again, promising she hadn't meant it and that she'd be a better sister from that day on.

They sat there for hours- he was cradled close against her chest as she held him tightly, rocking him back and forth in a comfortable silence. It was late- far later than it should have been, but their mother had left them alone with the promise that they would sleep soon- by the time Candace spoke again.

"Paul _is_ your dad," she said quietly, her voice small and rough from crying. "You know that, right?"

"But we don't call him that," he replied in genuine confusion. "And he doesn't live with us. Everyone at daycare says dads have to live with you to be dads."

"Well they're stupid," Candace said, and Phineas thought that was a little harsh, but he didn't say anything. He was sure she hadn't meant it. "Some people's dads live even further away than Paul does, but they're still their dad. It doesn't really change anything."

Phineas thought about pointing out that Candace had avoided calling their father anything but Paul for a while now, but hesitated. He stayed quiet, enjoying the rare time spent in solitude with his sister too much to risk it ending. Instead, he burrowed further into her hold and closed his eyes, drifting slowly off to sleep.

In the following months, Phineas thought a lot about their conversation, and even more about Paul himself. The man visited occasionally, but whenever he did Candace would go quiet, and Phineas wasn't sure how to react as a result. His sister was usually so lively that seeing her with her head down and an ever-present furrow between her brows had him retreating to his room most of the time, or to the backyard to play with their dog Bucky. He tried to distract her from Paul's presence, but any efforts on his part usually had him being sent away to play elsewhere. At least their mother didn't seem bothered by him.

"How come Candace doesn't call Paul dad anymore?" he asked her one day, shortly after Paul had left for the night and Candace had gone up to her room. She had been doing the dishes, but she went stiff at the question, her expression turning into one of surprise and her hands twitching as she went to catch a plate she hadn't even dropped.

"I suppose she just doesn't feel comfortable calling him that anymore, sweetie," she eventually replied, returning to her task with a little less cheer than before.

Phineas noticed and held his tongue before he could ask anything more. He hated seeing his mother this way. He hated being the cause of it. Turning on his heel, he ran out of the room and returned with a sheet of paper covered in crayon markings that loosely resembled some king of building surrounded by green. "Look mom!" he exclaimed, injecting as much cheer into his voice as he could in the hopes that some of it would rub off on her. "It's a treehouse! I'm gonna build one for Candace!"

The tension was gone in an instant, replaced with pride and joyful cooing as the woman fawned over her son and his colourful blueprints. Brimming with happiness at the adoration she was showing him, Phineas felt a little sick inside. He continued to think about it, but he resolved not to ask either of them about it again.

As it turned out, he needn't have. Just a few days later, while Candace was at school, his mother sat him down at the dining room table and talked to him about Paul. He listened with rapt attention as she talked about their meeting- how they, a pair of young hotshots had hit it off and had their first child within the year, realising _very_ quickly that even the energy of youth couldn't stave off the fatigue that came with a child who never seemed to sleep at any time that could be called convenient. The separation was slow, and while it was also something nobody was surprised by, it was a sore blog to realise that even with a second child on the way Paul wouldn't be there to see his little girl grow up first-hand.

"Candace used to call him 'daddy'," Linda said, reaching over to tug at Phineas' rumpled sleeves. "Then she called him 'dad', and now she just calls him 'Paul'. After he started coming less often, she stopped feeling so close to him. It's why she gets a little upset whenever he comes over, and even more upset when he can't."

She paused, looking at him with concern. Then her eyes softened, and Phineas was struck by the notion that his mother was tired- that he hadn't ever really seen her when she _wasn't_ tired, and that as soon as he was finished talking with her he would draw up the blueprints for some sort of not-being-tired machine. He was so busy thinking about it that he almost missed her next question.

"Are you okay with not having a dad, Phineas? Do you want Paul to be your dad?"

Phineas frowned a little in confusion. "Not really," he said truthfully. "I was just curious. Do I need one?"

His mother shook her head.

"Do you _want_ me to have one?"

At this, she hesitated, giving him an odd look which slowly settled into a gentle smile. "Maybe," she said softly. "Maybe," she repeated. "Not just yet though. You're stuck with me and Candace for a little longer."

She ruffled his hair and he laughed, leaning into the touch. It would be several years before everything his mother had told him fully made sense, but the information was there and for now, he was content.

A few weeks later, when he was seated outside beneath the tree in the backyard putting the finishing touches on a new toy for Bucky, he found himself in the shadow of a decidedly unhappy Candace.

"Hi Candace!" he greeted cheerfully. "Do you wanna help? I'm making a tennis ball that can throw itself for Bucky! Well, not really _throw_ , technically," he amended. "It's more like what those bugs do, the ones that go "pop" and turn themselves the right way up when they're upside-"

"Do you know what's wrong with mom?" Candace interrupted, folding her arms over her chest. "She's been acting weird lately and it's probably your fault. What did you do?"

"What?" Phineas looked up at her in dismay. "I didn't notice anything- I-I don't think I did anything, why? What's wrong with her?"

"I already said, she's acting weird."

"Yeah but weird how?" Phineas abandoned his work, consigning the half-finished invention to its inevitable fate of being chewed beyond repair by their overly-enthusiastic dog. At least none of his work was going to waste. He found his mother curled up on the cough in the living room, her phone cradled close against her ear. Even from the doorway he could tell Candace was right- their mother _was_ acting weird- he hadn't ever seen her face so red, and it was rarer than he'd have liked to see her smiling so widely- but he couldn't see how it was a bad thing.

"She looks really happy," he remarked.

"Exactly!" Candace hissed in response.

"But isn't that a good thing?"

"Of course it is, but it's weird isn't it? What did you do?"

"What? I don't think I did anything- I think it's the person she's talking to."

"Yeah, but who's-"

"Can I help you?"

Phineas and Candace jolted at the sound of their mother's voice, the taller of the two stuttering and nervously wringing her hands. Phineas, meanwhile, took his cue and ran inside, ignoring his sister's frantic motions for him to come back. He stopped next to the couch, inspecting the phone and noting, with a small thrill of happiness and curiosity, that the caller's name had a tiny heart symbol beside it.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Who's Lawrence?"

His mother's face got even redder. "H-he's-" she stammered, then pursed her lips, avoiding his gaze. "He's... my boyfriend."

On the other end of the line, a young boy with green hair watched curiously as his father's expression lit up with what could only be described as unbridled joy.

" _Boyfriend, Ferb!"_ he mouthed to his son. " _Boyfriend!_ "

The boy gave him a thumbs-up even as the word was echoed back to him through the phone in the form of a high-pitched shriek.

Phineas covered his ears, looking at his sister in shock. "Candace, what's wrong?!" he asked in alarm.

"What's-" Candace floundered, waving her arms about as her face grew to an increasingly deep shade of crimson.

Sighing, his mother took a moment to bid her paramour farewell before hanging up and letting the phone rest in her lap. "Candace," she began in a gentle voice, "I know this might be a bit hard for you, but-"

"How many dates have you been on?!" her daughter interrupted. "Have you kissed yet?!"

Linda looked vaguely distressed. "Well, yes, we have-"

"What?!" Candace screeched. "How come we haven't met him yet?!"

"What?"

"Is he doing anything tonight?!" Candace went on, heedless of her mother's confusion. "Are _you_ doing anything tonight?! Why aren't you on a date with him? Is _that_ what you're wearing?!"

" _Candace!_ "

Candace froze, looking between her mother and the phone with her lips pursed and her eyes wide. Linda looked equally frazzled, pinching the bridge of her nose as she sighed once again.

"Okay," she said slowly," let's start this again. Candace- you aren't bothered by this?"

"What?!" the girl was incredulous. "Of course not, it's about time! How long have you been dating?"

The corners of Linda's mouth lifted into a smile. "A few weeks," she admitted after a moment. "I hadn't wanted to tell you two until it turned into something serious. Now seems as good a time as any."

"But that's great, mom! What's he like? Does he live in Danville? How'd you meet him? I can watch Phineas if you wanna go on a date with him-"

"Candace _no_ ," Linda interrupted again. "Tonight's just not a good night for a date. It's already five o' clock- rushing off for dinner at this point wouldn't be practical, especially not with having to find a sitter and all."

"I can babysit Phineas!"

"Candace, honey, I love you and I trust you but you only just turned nine. I couldn't even legally let you stay here alone with Phineas if I wanted to. And it's not just you guys, Lawrence has a little boy too- it'd be impossible to find sitters for the both of you at this hour."

"He has a son?" This time it was Phineas who spoke, both his and Candace's eyes widening in curiosity. "What's his name?"

"Ferb," his mother replied. "He's your age too, Phineas. He's a _very_ quiet boy, but very charming. Lawrence and I have been discussing playdates, but there just hasn't been a good time for it. I'll have to get on that, I think. Now that everything's official," she added in a slightly giddy tone that had both Phineas and Candace beaming.

"So?" Candace insisted, hopping up on the couch and leaning forward on her hands. "How did you meet?"

Linda smiled and reached forward to pull Phineas into her lap. "Well, funnily enough, we first met _years_ ago, well before you two were born..."

They'd met at a café, she said, and had seen each other regularly over the course of the following month. Then, after their first kiss at that fateful Love Handel concert, they had parted ways- Lawrence back to England, Linda off to kickstart her temporary fame as a one-hit-wonder. Years had passed- in which they both experienced the wonders of treasured relationships and the hardships of parenting- without either seeing the other until just a few weeks before now, when Linda was wandering through Danville's solitary antique store.

Really, after so much time with neither of them in any sort of contact whatsoever, it was shocking that they had recognized each other at all.

Linda had seen him, she said, and known instantly. She had tried to hide herself- a futile attempt, it seemed, as he had later told her that he'd recognized her the minute she walked through the door but was too nervous to say anything. It was only when she showed signs of leaving that he plucked up the courage to approach and asked if she remembered him.

"I-I'd understand if you didn't," he'd stammered past nervous laughter. "Just, you know, thought I'd bring it up I suppose, and oh gosh, that was rather odd of me wasn't it? I'm so sorry, it's just that I don't... Well, I don't usually do things so _impulsive,_ and oh gosh! What a coincidence to see you here, and-"

He'd started to babble then, dissolving into anxious laughter and hand-waving and she'd stopped him, invited him out for tea and coffee, and they'd been seeing each other ever since.

A series of back-and-forth texts shortly followed her story, and a date was set. In just one week, Lawrence and his son Ferb would be visiting for the very first time.


	3. The Start of Something Incredible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The boys meet each other, for the first time, all over again.

Ferb fiddled with the straps of his overalls, staring intently at the wooden blocks stacked neatly before him, and breathed through the rise of the cold burn in his chest. It was structurally sound, his tower- and very pretty, too. But it wasn't enough. Not enough to impress the likes of Phineas, that was for sure. He needed to build something _amazing_. His blocks were too uniform- too neat, and he didn't like them anymore. He needed to build something bigger, something crazier- but as he was beginning to realise, he just wasn't creative enough. He couldn't think of a single thing to make.

Feeling sick, he started pulling his tower apart, placing the blocks neatly back into their container. He eyed the children around him as he worked, paying attention in particular to a small bridge the young girl beside him- Melanie, he remembered- had put together. It was nice- small and sturdy, it supported a small line of cars she had placed along it and had little flags on either side. Ferb wondered why he hadn't thought to put little flags on his tower. He was usually so much better at this.

He wanted to say something. Wanted to compliment her on her lovely little bridge and ask her how she'd managed to make it so pretty even though it was so small, but he couldn't. The words were stuck in his throat and the other children usually tried to avoid him anyway. Not for lack of trying- but Ferb was a quiet child, and they didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't begrudge them for it, but today he found himself wishing he was better. Wishing he was _different_. It had been a long time since he'd felt so scared.

He jumped at the sound of his teacher clapping and immediately felt foolish, attempting to hide his face as he continued his task of putting the blocks away. The man, Mr. Taylor, wore a pleasant grin as he called for cleanup, circling the room and helping any students who seemed to be straggling. He paid huge compliments to every child, stopping for longer than usual to play a little with the cars on Melanie's bridge.

Ferb sincerely hoped he wouldn't bother him today. He liked Mr. Taylor, but he had difficulty communicating with him non-verbally, which immediately put a strain on their relationship. It had been something he'd overheard the man confronting his father about not long after he'd started going to pre-school, his low voice dripping with concern over Ferb's perceived lack of social skills.

Hiding around the corner and listening to his father assure Mr. Taylor in a gentle voice and no uncertain terms that Ferb was _fine_ and that he simply didn't talk as much as most children, Ferb had felt dreadful. He'd never had any of this sort of trouble in England for it, but he hadn't interacted with many other people his age. His dad couldn't afford to send him to daycare, so he was usually sent to spend time with his grandparents, who worried, but quickly became accustomed to his silence. Now there was a chance his lack of communication could sabotage his relationship with Phineas before it even started, and he couldn't have felt worse for it.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice Mr. Taylor kneeling beside him until the man spoke up.

"Ferb, lad, need any help?"

Ferb shook his head in response.

Mr. Taylor nodded, but he didn't seem convinced. Neither did he seem inclined to ignore Ferb and help him anyway, which Ferb was supremely grateful for. There were a _lot_ of blocks in Ferb's tower- he'd used up almost all of them, sparing only a few for the other children. Luckily most of them were preoccupied with a brand new set of sturdy wooden instruments that had arrived just a few days prior, and the others weren't inclined to build things anyway. Mr. Taylor gestured to Ferb's tower, which the boy was disassembling as quickly as he could. Hopefully he would be allowed to leave as soon as he got it down- he had to be out of daycare as quickly as he could be that day, so he and his father could head over to the Flynn household.

"That's a lovely tower you've made there, Ferb!" Mr. Taylor said enthusiastically. For once, Ferb was grateful for the distraction. "Very big, too- you've used up almost all the blocks we have!"

Ferb nodded, and even graced him with a small smile, willing away the awkwardness between them. Awkwardness made him nervous when he felt it was his fault, and he was already nervous enough today _thank you_.

Despite his efforts, there was an extended moment of silence between them as Ferb continued to gather the blocks and Mr. Taylor struggled to decide what the do with himself. Eventually he seemed to come to the conclusion that his efforts were best spent helping other children who were having more trouble and with a smile and a light clap on Ferb's back he was gone.

Ferb breathed a silent sigh of relief and shrugged a little to rid himself of the feeling of the shape left by Mr. Taylor's hand. He was almost done, but while the act of cleaning his space usually calmed him, Ferb was feeling worse than ever. He could see his dad waiting for him outside through the window, grinning jovially as he greeted parents passing-by.

Ferb's stomach was tying itself into knots. Lawrence Fletcher was a well-liked man- always pleasant and polite, he was easy to talk to and excellent at making people feel comfortable and relaxed. Ferb had never felt inclined to follow in his father's social footsteps, but now he wondered if maybe he should have. Maybe he would have a greater chance of being liked by the only person he'd ever worried about liking him.

After putting the plastic tub of blocks away neatly in the cupboard, Ferb shouldered his backpack and headed outside, head down, mind racing. He felt bad- he felt _awful_ and he didn't know how to deal with it. He'd never felt so terrible in all his life and he couldn't even work out _why_. Phineas was just another child- just another little boy who liked playing and building and watching cartoons. Logically, Ferb really didn't have any reason to be scared of meeting him, but he couldn't help it. His mouth was dry and he couldn't swallow properly and his scalp prickled and he felt like he was going to vomit.

It was ridiculous. He hated it, and he hated himself for feeling it.

Breathing deeply, he kept his expression carefully neutral as he approached his father. He didn't want the other children to notice how pale and shaky he was. His dad would, but they'd talk about it on the way over. He didn't want to stop moving for this- it would, if anything, only make it all worse.

Sure enough, when he took his father's hand and set off down the street, he was addressed with no small amount of concern.

"Ferb, are you alright?" his dad asked, giving his hand a small squeeze. "You look a little pale, are you ill?"

Ferb pursed his lips.

"Ah. Just a little nervous then?"

Ferb huffed quietly and the corner of his mouth tweaked upward. His father laughed in response.

"A _lot_ nervous, then." He squeezed Ferb's hand again and gave him a reassuring smile. "He's going to love you, you know. Linda says he won't stop talking about how excited he is to meet you."

All of a sudden, Ferb's insides went cold.

He looked down.

He could feel his father's worried gaze on the back of his head, but he kept his eyes locked firmly on the pavement.

A moment passed, then Lawrence used his other hand to rummage through his ever-present leather bag. "I brought something for you," he said as he passed Ferb a small object. "I suspected this might be a little difficult, and I thought it might help calm you down."

Ferb's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of his little Union Jack flag and he accepted it eagerly. Since the flight to America he hadn't even touched it- it had been placed lovingly on his nightstand in their new apartment, but otherwise it was only thought of fondly, never held.

As his fingers curled around it now he didn't feel his breathing slow or his insides unfurl, but he felt steadier, more confident. He managed a small smile for his father, who nodded and ruffled his hair. Ferb didn't mind- it wasn't like it was ever neat anyway.

The rest of the walk to the house was spent in silence, but somehow it wasn't as oppressive as Ferb had been expecting. The monotonous act of putting one foot in front of another and watching the lines of the sidewalk disappear beneath him was calming- his heart rate slowed, and while the feeling wasn't gone completely, he wasn't quite so sick to his stomach anymore. That was, until he realised they were walking up to the Flynn house's front door.

Lawrence wasted no time in ringing the doorbell while his son dissolved into panic beside him. How had they gotten there so fast? It was a half-hour walk from pre-school wasn't it? Surely they hadn't really been walking for half an hour already?

He tightened his already death-like grip on his flag, breathing steadily and managing to calm himself a little until the door opened far too quickly, revealing a tall young girl with bright orange hair who was clearly brimming with energy.

"Hi!" she greeted excitedly. "You're Lawrence, right? My mom's boyfriend?"

Ferb almost snorted at the blush that rose to his father's cheeks. Even now, the man still became endearingly flustered whenever the term was used.

Then the girl's attention was on him, and suddenly Ferb didn't feel like laughing anymore.

"And you're Ferb, right?" the girl- Candace was her name, wasn't it- beamed at him, holding out her hand. "I love your hair!"

This time it was Ferb's turn to blush as he extended a shaky hand and nodded as Candace practically wrung his wrist out with the force of her handshake. People didn't often bring up his hair unless he and his dad were out of the room, assuming that his father was projecting a yearning to be more rebellious onto his son, or that he was being irresponsible in letting his child make his own decisions regarding his appearance. Both were more likely explanations than having hair that was naturally green- but Ferb never seemed to conform where normal was concerned. Already he found himself liking the girl before him.

"Mom!" she called behind her. "Mom- Lawrence and Ferb are here!"

A tiny gasp, then a muffled thump followed by the _pap-pap-pap-pap-pap_ of little feet sounded through the house, growing fainter as whoever the feet belonged to ascended wooden stairs. As they continued to thump around the second floor a slower, heavier set descended the stairs and approached them at the front door. There Linda stood, looking tired but pleased to see them.

"Hi Lawrence," she greeted fondly as she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. Candace almost squealed. "Hi Ferb," she then said, reaching over to ruffle his hair. The action was affectionate, and Ferb felt himself calm down just a little more. He'd met Linda before on several occasions- weekends and days off from pre-school, when she'd come to their apartment for a coffee and a chance to chat. It hadn't taken long for him to decide that she was lovely, and an absolutely perfect match for his dad. His grip on his flag loosened a little until he remembered the footsteps and realised with a jolt who they must have belonged to.

Linda noticed his look and sighed, smiling wryly. "I'm guessing you all heard Phineas just now? He's been like that all morning, running back and forth in a frenzy- he's pretty much turned his room upside-down looking for things to show you, Ferb."

Ferb couldn't help the look of genuine surprise which flitted across his features. Was is possible Phineas was just as nervous as he was? He honestly hadn't even considered it. From the sounds of it, Phineas was a confident little boy who had as little difficulty making friends as Ferb had building things. How could he possibly be worried about meeting Ferb?

Candace threw up her arms, jolting him out of his reverie. "Ugh! He's been freaking out since he woke up! He keeps forgetting where everything is, and he _never_ does that- he even asked me where all his blueprints were! His _blueprints_! And he was _holding them_!"

Ferb's head was spinning. Phineas was nervous. _Phineas_ was nervous. He wasn't sure if it made things easier or worse.

At least his dad seemed to think it was a good thing. "There you go Ferb!" he laughed. "The lad's just as wound up as you are- how about you go up and say hello, hm?"

Ferb heard Candace hiss something suspiciously like _'Accent...'_ but before he could think more on it he was already being gently nudged towards the stairs. Aftraid to slow his momentum, Ferb went with it, clutching his flag in both hands again as he ascended to the second floor. Talking continued downstairs, but it became muffled nonsense as he ignored it in favour of the continued thumping noises coming from the second room down the hall.

Slowing down, Ferb came to a stop in front of the door to the room in question, raised his hand to knock, and stopped. The thumping continued, now followed by a frantic indecipherable murmuring, and Ferb was stuck with his closed fist hovering centimeters from the painted wood, hostage to his hesitation.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but the next thing he knew the door was flying open and a figure hidden behind bundles of rolled-up paper was preparing to race out before freezing in their tracks.

Ferb saw only Phineas' red hair until huge blue eyes rose to stare at him over the bundles clutched in skinny arms tanned from the sun, and found himself unsure of what to do. His fist was still raised, so he lowered it, returning it to his flag and holding it tighter than ever. His heart was pounding and he could feel his scalp beginning to prickle again and the knot in his stomach worsened. He opened his mouth to speak, but in this rare circumstance of _desperately_ wanting to speak, his voice refused to come to him, so he closed it again and wished he hadn't.

What could he do? One look at Phineas' face told him the other boy was getting increasingly nervous as well- how could he tell him? Was it showing on his face, how stressed he had been over the past week about this meeting? If it wasn't, how could he make it happen? How did he _usually_ make it happen? How could he tell him that he wasn't usually even this quiet, that he usually found a way to make his point eventually, that he couldn't remember a time he'd actually been worried about meeting someone new and that this was so unusual for him he didn't know how to deal with it? How did-

"M-me too!"

Ferb's racing thoughts ground to a halt, his mouth opening in shock. Phineas dropped his bundle at their feet and Feb hadn't realised how shaky Phineas had been, how pale and scared he'd looked. His voice was strong when he spoke, but he seemed breathless, and as he watched Ferb saw colour returning to Phineas cheeks and the littlest of smiles gracing his lips.

"I've never been scared meeting someone before, but when mom said you were coming I just-" Phineas floundered, laughing, and the sound relaxed Ferb more than anything else could have. Phineas understood. Phineas _understood_ , already on a level nobody else had- not even his dad. Ferb didn't say anything but he grinned as much as he could and Phineas laughed again.

"Yeah, exactly! A-and the more mom talked about you the more scared I got- I-I've been looking for things to show you all week! Here, come on, look- I've got building blocks!"

Ferb found himself being snatched by the wrist and dragged into Phineas' room, bundles of what he now realised were blueprints lying abandoned behind them. Somehow the grip didn't irritate him as much as contact with other people did, and it only took a second before he was running alongside Phineas and helping the boy to lift the heavy box of large wooden building blocks down from a high shelf in his cupboard. They were just tipping the box to let everything out when Phineas turned to him again and asked with a touch of anxiety; "Um- you _do_ like building blocks, right? You don't wanna do something else?"

Ferb looked at him then, and Phineas immediately brightened, pouring out the blocks with increased vigour. "Oh man, this is great! What do you wanna build? How about a tower! But we can make it a really cool shape, with bits coming off in the middle and coming back to join up again, and- and heaps of little flags, and I've got some little Banners Candace gave me from her Princess Castle collection which would look _awesome_ at the top, and- oh, but. Um, I've never actually been able to make something like that before- but you're good at building, right? Is that- you could do it, right?"

Phineas gave him a look that bespoke such admiration and excitement that Ferb felt something inside him give way. All fear was gone, replaced instead with firm determination and the desire to do all that he could to make the boy before him happy- and the satisfaction in knowing that Phineas would do the same for him.

Rising to his feet, Ferb clapped a hand to his chest, directly over his heart. "Phineas," he said in as bold and solemn a voice as he could manage, "it would be my honour."

Phineas laughed, and Ferb laughed too, and neither could remember ever feeling so exhilarated. They ended up finishing in record time, standing back and staring at their work in a sort of ecstatic gaze. It was exactly what Phineas had envisioned, and exactly what Ferb had always wished he could create. It was the result of their first ever project, and they couldn't have been prouder of it.

Still basking in the warm feeling left by a job well done, they used a small disposable camera Phineas had gotten for his birthday during the summer to take a photo of their creation before packing it away. Every piece was meticulously put back where it came from, with extra care given to the Princess Castle banners Phineas seemed particularly fond of.

"Candace never gives me anything," he said cheerfully by way of explanation, tone devoid of any bitterness or sarcasm. "This was the first thing she ever gave me that she owned and loved- 'cause I kept asking if I could use them in my buildings. They were never as pretty on anything as what we just built though," he admitted breathlessly.

Ferb could relate. Everything he had made in the past had lacked Phineas' imaginative streak- not that any of it had been _bad_ per se, but to him it had been nothing more than functional. The tower- _their_ tower- was not just functional, it was beautiful.

"We should make it for real one day," Phineas declared as the two carefully shoved the box back into the cupboard. "When we're older and we understand it better, and we can make good use of the proper materials. For now though blocks is good. Hey! We should make a new tower every year! And we'll take photos of it, and it'll be like a timeline of how good we're getting!"

Ferb looked at him incredulously. Even with how quickly they had clicked, he had never had another child make such grandoise plans with him- he could barely process the idea of people wanting to make plans with him a week away, let alone several _years_.

His silence must have thrown Phineas this time, for the boy was giving him an odd look as he closed the cupboard doors. He seemed to wrestle with something, but as the moment lengthened and became increasingly heavy, he steeled himself and asked;

"Do other kids not want to play with you?"

Ferb tensed avoiding his gaze. Phineas looked at him a second longer, then lowered his head with a sigh.

"I'm sorry. It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it."

Several seconds passed in silence, then Phineas suggested in as bright a voice as he could manage that they go downstairs for snacks. Ferb nodded, smiling a little when Phineas took him by the hand again to lead him through the house. The tension was gone, replaced by the warmth of camaraderie as they descended the stairs, two sets of feet creating one steady sound.

They passed by their parents and Candace in the living room on the way to the kitchen, who all seemed to be enjoying themselves. A drink cradled in each of their hands, they sat close together on the longest couch, laughing as they traded jokes and stories amongst themselves.

"Hi, boys!" Linda called, still chortling over the lip of her coffee mug. "Having fun?"

"Yeah!" Phineas replied brightly. "We got the blocks out and we build a _huge_ tower! It was a super cool shape, and it had flags on it and a little moat we made with my blue sheets, and even a little drawbridge!"

The banners, Ferb remembered.

Phineas glanced at him. "Oh yeah, and I finally got to use your Princess Castle banners properly, Candace! They looked great!"

"Oh!" Candace blushed a little. "Well, um. I'm glad you liked them."

Phineas, beaming, tightened his grip on Ferb's hand as the two hurried through to the kitchen, oblivious to the stunned look Lawrence was giving them.

Linda noticed, of course. "Something wrong, Lawrence?" she asked with concern.

Lawrence shook his head dumbly. "No, no, not at all, it's just." He paused, a slow smile creeping across his face. "I've never seen Ferb take to quickly to someone. _Ever_. He just..." He took a sip from his cup of tea, his smile widening. "He's only ever been awkward around people his age. The silence usually throws them off, but that doesn't seem to be an issue for Phineas."

Linda nodded. "To be honest, it's much the same for Phineas."

That seemed to throw him. "What?" he asked in surprise. "But he seems to friendly!"

"Oh, he is. _Very_ friendly, but also _very_ excitable." An edge of worry crept into Linda's voice and she glanced quickly at her daughter, running an absent hand through her hair. "Every time I go to pick him up from daycare he's surrounded by kids, but none of them ever seem to want to visit, and although he can name every single person in his class and list off their favourite ice cream flavours, he always seems to just..." she sighed, pursing her lips, "clam up, when I ask him if he has any friends. When I mentioned Ferb was into building things, I think something in him short-circuited," she added with a laugh. "I've never seen him so frantic, not even when Candace lost her big Ducky Momo plushie."

"Well then," Lawrence said, gently setting his cup on the coffee table. "Hopefully they can see a lot more of each other in the future."

Meanwhile in the kitchen said boys were scrounging through the cupboards for snacks.

"Chips?" Phineas asked as he pulled out a massive packet and scurried to get a bowl.

Ferb shot him a curious look.

"Oh, that's right! Mom said it's different in England, huh?" Phineas said without turning around. "The dry crisps kind, not the hot fries kind. Do you want a drink? Apple juice or orange?"

Ferb blinked.

"Yeah, me too," Phineas agreed as he pulled the carton of apple juice from the fridge. "Could you get the glasses from the cupboard up there?"

Ferb did so, and with the glasses and bowl retrieved, the snacks were distributed and the two wandered into the backyard and took a seat beneath the solitary tree.

"Our dog Bucky lives in that little house over there," Phineas said, pointing to a large doghouse in the corner of the yard. "But he's getting pretty old, so he doesn't play as much anymore. I still like to make toys for him though. And age doesn't stop him from destroying them all," he added fondly.

From where he was sitting Ferb could see the nose of what he assumed to be a very large Saint Bernard surrounded by scraps of rubber and tiny electronic parts- presumably the remains of whatever Phineas had been trying to make him. At least it had all gone to good use.

They ate in silence until the bowl and their glasses were empty and a little longer still afterwards. They stared at the wispy clouds drifting lazily in the sky above them, the quiet occasionally disrupted whenever Phineas identified a shape or a particular cloud pattern. Ferb was quickly becoming accustomed to not needing to speak for Phineas to understand him- a surreal experience to be sure, but he was increasingly grateful for it. Phineas talked a _lot_. Ferb couldn't imagine having to verbally respond to every one of his comments.

"You know what you are Ferb?" Phineas asked eventually, after Ferb had pointed to a particularly kitten-like cluster of clouds.

Ferb raised an eyebrow, feeling completely relaxed.

"You're a man of action."

Ferb straightened at that, leaning back on his hands and looking down at Phineas who was on his back beside him. Phineas returned the look with a wide grin, lifting his arms to let them rest behind his head.

"You shouldn't have to talk if you don't want to. You _don't_ have to talk if you don't want to."

Ferb felt his throat constrict and his eyes begin to burn. It was one thing hearing it from his dad, but it was another to hear it from Phineas.

"Thank you," he said as calmly as he could manage.

Phineas giggled, raising his hand for a high-five which Ferb returned with great enthusiasm.

"Are you staying for dinner?"

Ferb nodded firmly. They'd have to discuss it with their parents, but he'd certainly like to.

"Oh! You could even stay the night! I'm sure mom wouldn't mind, and my bed's pretty big- we could share!"

Ferb blinked.

"Oh yeah, and _lots_ of snacks."

A thumbs-up. Plans made, Phineas laughed. "This is gonna be so awesome! And I've got a _great_ idea for what we could do tomorrow!"


End file.
